


a prayer on his lips (a sinner's death in his kiss)

by lilacsweaters_ivorylilies



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Yakuza, Angry Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Blood and Violence, Confident Katsuki Yuuri, Dancing, Dark Victor Nikiforov, Drama, Enemies to Lovers, Eros Katsuki Yuuri, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Long-Haired Victor Nikiforov Appreciation, M/M, Mafia Katsuki Yuuri, Mafia Victor Nikiforov, Murder Husbands, Past Relationship(s), Pining Victor Nikiforov, Protectiveness, Romance, Russian Mafia, Slow Burn, Top Katsuki Yuuri, Top Victor Nikiforov, Torture, Trauma, Victor Nikiforov is Extra, Victor spelt with a k, Yakuza, Yuri Plisetsky is a Brat, but we love him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:15:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27859678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilacsweaters_ivorylilies/pseuds/lilacsweaters_ivorylilies
Summary: "Bite me." Yuuri hissed. There was a pout on the silver-haired man's lips as he sighed, a long and drawling sound."Oh if only you'd let me, darling." Yuuri refused to let those words affect him. Absolutelyrefused.Katsuki Yuuri had been leader of the Yakuza for over five years. Violence, torture, deceit and the horrors that surrounded him from the day he was born were things that Yuuri learned to grow accustomed to. But nothing could have prepared him for Viktor Nikiforov.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky, Phichit Chulanont/Christophe Giacometti
Comments: 4
Kudos: 46





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everybody! So this is my first Yuuri/Viktor fic ever and I am super excited to write this. This was inspired by a fanart I saw years ago. I really wanted to write this then but my writing skills were definitely deplorable and I wanted to not butcher the story. Feel free to drop some feedback/ask questions/rave over Viktor's long-hair glory days together. It's great to interact with readers and I hope you guys like the first chapter!

_"Please!"_

Yuuri landed punch after punch, his knuckles stained red with blood, not entirely his own. The sting kept his mind off of many things and that was what he had been going for. So tuning out the man's screams, Yuuri continued. Usually, Yuuri never did the dirty work. He found it messy and would rather be doing something more beneficial with his time. However, today was special. 

Heaving from exertion, Yuuri gestured for one of his guards to come forward. He wiped his hands off of the blood with a handkerchief handed to him and ignored the pain that came from friction. Looking down at the heaping mess of a man that was curling into himself, Yuuri sighed. Why couldn't things be more simpler? As much as he fought against the memory, it plagued him once more.

Drinking too much Chardonnay, dancing, dancing with _him-_

Yuuri landed a swift kick to the man's stomach, trying to keep the memory at bay and the resulting scream worked for a moment. Yuuri left the room without so much as a backward glance after that, looking up at the night sky in trepidation. His victim had been useless. This was why Yuuri didn't handle the gruesome aspects of his position. Unless it was personal, he never really found anything enjoyable about it. 

Yuuri zipped his jacket up before beginning to take the weathered path that led to the onsen. The nights in Hasetsu were always quiet and empty. Most of the people who lived here stayed at home during the night. Yuuri wondered what would greet him when he went back to Yu-Topia. He knew his guests probably hadn't arrived, since the flight from St. Petersburg was delayed. But then again, that had been hours ago. Maybe he could squeeze in some moments in the hot springs if they hadn't. The steaming waters could provide some relief for his tensed up muscles. 

Dancing had always helped, but Yuuri had been too busy to consider the possibility. Now, walking in the night, was the only time that Yuuri found himself alone for the entire day. But what lunatic dances to no music in the middle of the street? Yuuri huffed out a laugh. If Phichit had been here, he would have danced with him. The Thai man always seemed to go along with whatever Yuuri thought of. Kicking a pebble all the way to the onsen, Yuuri paused at the entrance when he saw a large black Bentley parked near the side of the building. 

He could hear chatter from inside and his mother's excitable conversation, most of all. A deep laugh made him pause, hand suspended a few inches from the wooden sliding doors. Taking a deep breath, Yuuri steeled himself and pushed them open. 

* * *

_**St. Petersburg, Russia, 2010** _

Yuuri couldn't think of a more terrible way to celebrate his eighteenth birthday. His father apparently had some business to do in Russia and Yuuri had blanched. What business did they have in _Russia_ of all places? Toshiya had been quiet, but he was never one for many words. Yuuri held back his curiosity, knowing that he'd find out sooner or later. They had flown into Russia through minor turbulence with the rest of the group. A little bitter that he couldn't spend the night going to that club in Detroit with Phichit, Yuuri was silent as they arrived at a mansion that has been nestled near a place that had little to no contact with the city. 

It was huge yet filled with décor tasteful enough that the interior didn't seem banal. A hulking man had led them to the parlor and felt the air rush out of his lungs when he saw who it was sitting in one of the chairs. 

Dmitri Nikiforov had been indifferent to their presence, his father had been the same. It seemed like the both of them couldn't wait to get this over with. The Pakhan's blue eyes caught Yuuri's for a moment and completely out of his element here, Yuuri had no choice but to turn away. The anxiety crawled it's way up his arms from the hands clasped behind his back, going down his spine and gripping it like a vice. Yuuri trailed his eyes over the entire room, mapping exits, items that could be used as a potential weapon, before they fell on _him._

Those same blue eyes that Dmitri had, stared back at him but this time, they were on a much younger face. Yuuri could see the similarities between Dmitri and who had to be his son. He was like a carbon copy of his father, but there was a youthfulness there. Those ice-blue eyes sparkled, long silver hair tied in a ponytail with a few strands bracketing his face. Yuuri followed as his father sank into one of the chairs and stood next to him. Toshiya made idle chatter in Russian with Dmitri and his wife who sat at his side. Yuuri couldn't help but wonder whose presence was more imposing; Dmitri, or the predatory gaze of Anastasiya. Yuuri would be lying if he wasn't a bit wary of her. 

Anastasiya had been a prima ballerina in her time and those sharp movements she had executed on stage weren't reserved for the stage alone. The way she sat, the way she looked, everything was pinned under her scrutiny. Yuuri knew how resilient the woman was. She had only stopped dancing when she physically couldn't anymore. Nothing had stopped her, a broken ankle, a knee injury. It was like the woman had no off switch. The disgusted glare she gave Yuuri atoned to her personality and Yuuri looked back to her son after she had glanced away. He seemed to have inherited the long silver hair of his mother. 

But his demeanor was like nothing of his parents. There was undisguised curiosity there in his eyes, shining and apparent as he cocked his head almost imperceptibly to the side. Yuuri was confused. Why was he looking at him like that? Only then did Yuuri let himself actually _look_ at the man. He was lean, hints of muscle apparent. The sharp features most Russians were blessed with were there in the lines of body and his tall figure made Yuuri think that he'd have to crane his head up to look at him if they were close. Yuuri's eyebrows furrowed as he wondered why in the hell would they even be close? 

Hardening his posture, Yuuri looked back to see those eyes taking in every inch of _his_ body this time and he refrained from gulping. Yuuri could feel himself sweat under such a scrutinizing gaze and the resulting hunger in them when they met Yuuri's eyes once more seemed to have dried the entirety of his throat. The man's lips twitched to the side in a smirk and Yuuri sent him a glare. _Just what was he playing at?_

"Dasvidanya." His father spoke and that seemed to rouse Yuuri from the staring contest he had with the other man. They left the parlor after a stiff handshake between Toshiya and Dmitri and although Yuuri had his back turned, he could feel the burning gaze. He risked one glance back when they were rounding a corner and just as the parlor doors began to shut, the man gave him a wink when he caught Yuuri looking. 

* * *

Most of the resulting night had been a bit of a blur, but Yuuri remembered strong hands on his hips, pulling him close as they grinded against each other in a bar Yuuri had gone to. Those silver locks had been carded in his fingers, tumbling against the man's shoulders entirely when Yuuri had tugged off his hair tie. He could still feel the breath against his neck, those parting words, movements matching his to the beat. 

Yuuri had went over many scenarios in his head when this day would come. He knew that the renewal of the contract was important and as leader, it could only be done by him. He knew that Viktor became Pakhan of the Russian mafia a year after that goddamn night. He knew that they would have to meet again even if Yuuri did everything in his power to avoid Russian soil altogether. But somehow, as Yuuri walked inside, all of these thoughts hadn't prepared him when he locked eyes with Viktor Nikiforov once again after ten years. 


	2. II.

Yuuri had only a very short glance of Viktor before a ball of fluff knocked him back abruptly, something wet on his face as he landed painfully on his arse. He had half the mind to push the gigantic dog off but big black eyes stared at him with their obvious excitement and Yuuri relented, patting the dog's fluffy head. Yuuri wondered whose dog was it as he got back up, the poodle now circling his legs. 

"Seems like Makkachin likes you." Yuuri turned his eyes onto the source of the teasing voice, knowing that he had to face Viktor sooner or later. _Come on,_ Yuuri thought to himself, _this isn't ten years ago. Let yourself have some modicum of confidence._

The act proved difficult, however, when he actually looked at the other man. 

It was clear that the Viktor here was most definitely _not_ the same one Yuuri met ten years ago. It was to be expected, but Yuuri had no idea just how much Victor would change. He was much taller now, more filled out yet maintaining that lean physique. The planes of his chest and stomach were pronounced and there was no softness in sight that Yuuri could pinpoint. The most obvious thing that changed was his hair. Yuuri felt a pang of disappointment when he saw that there were no long silver locks anymore, bangs now covering one of those blue eyes. Yuuri caught himself when he realized he was staring, clearing his throat a moment later once he looked away. 

"You cut your hair." Yuuri said as means of conversation and Viktor grinned. 

Yuuri forced himself to remember that he wasn't dealing with the same Viktor Nikiforov that had danced with him for hours. This was the Pakhan of the Russian mafia. As much as Yuuri didn't want to, it was easy to forget the rumors and whispers about Viktor when the man was looking at him like that. The stories about Viktor were exaggerated, yes, but rumors always held some form of truth to them. And as much as Yuuri doesn't want to believe something as distasteful as Viktor bathing in the blood of his victims, there was always one thing in common with all the stories.

"You sound displeased about that." Viktor said with a grin, running his fingers through his hair. His bangs slipped back to their position a moment later. 

Yuuri rolled his eyes. "I could care less about your hair, Nikiforov. It was an observation." 

But even as he said it, Yuuri knew his proclamation wouldn't ring true. He had twisted his fingers in Viktor's hair, murmuring about how long and soft it was, even brushing it against his cheek out of drunken curiosity. Viktor seemed to be thinking the same thing too, a smirk on his face that proved that he wasn't buying what Yuuri said either. _Wonderful. He just got here and I already can't seem to have it under control._

Hiroko broke the tension after she came back from the kitchen, immediately ushering Viktor to the back of the onsen where the hot springs were. Viktor complied with the energetic woman, especially since he caught the word 'dinner' come out of her mouth. His gaze lingered on Yuuri for a moment before he disappeared into the corner, leaving Yuuri to let out a long breath once he was gone. Yuuri leaned against the wall as he considered his options from there on out but before he could come up with something that would actually help him, his mother took one look at his bloody knuckles and immediately shooed him upstairs.

He remembered when Guang Hong had flown in from China to discuss a business deal about gun trading at the black market before Hiroko had absolutely refused to let them talk about anything on an empty stomach. Yuuri guessed that the same went for Viktor as well, especially when he had been actually attempting at animated conversation with Hiroko in whatever rendition of Japanese he was using. The raven haired man had half the mind to poke fun at him for it, but he knew his own Russian wasn't a thing for the history books either and refrained from doing so. 

Mari was nowhere to be seen so Yuuri guessed that she had to have been doing business somewhere else. She usually stayed out most nights and slept during the morning unless their mother needed help in the kitchen. Yuuri walked to his room and waited for a few minutes before deciding that a soak in the hot springs would definitely help him clear his head. So what if Viktor was there? Yuuri could just pretend like he didn't exist. Like how he had been pretending for the past ten years. Resolute in his decision, Yuuri stripped and wrapped a towel around his hips, walking to the hot springs and keeping his gaze on his feet.

Mental pep-talks were the only thing Yuuri had going for him as he walked to the empty area of the hot springs farther out back and took a quick rinse under the shower head. Yuuri winced as his knuckles burned in protest against any sort of friction but he pushed his way through it, only turning to face the hot springs once he was completely soaked.

"Yuuuuri!" He winced as the exclamation, making him want to turn tail and run out of there. Yuuri huffed. He wasn't going to let Viktor intimidate him. Why would he even be intimidated? Viktor wouldn't be stupid enough to try anything here in Japan, he would be dead before he even stepped into the airport. Yuuri knew that that wasn't the reason why he was feeling apprehensive, but denial had mostly served him well all these years.

Turning around from the shower head, Yuuri felt immensely thankful that the wooden divider that covered his lower half kept Viktor from seeing how his knees weakened at the sight in front of him.

Viktor was standing there- completely naked. So, very naked. Yuuri immediately slapped his hand over his eyes and the resulting laugh that Viktor let out was mortifying. He only caught a glimpse of defined pectoral muscles and a slender cut of abs before he had half the mind to stop looking.

"Do you have to be-" Yuuri gestured vaguely with his free hand to where Viktor had been standing.

Viktor's voice was smooth as he asked, "Am I making you uncomfortable?" Yuuri hated everything about this man. Did he have to speak every word like he was flirting? 

"No, you're not." Yuuri said indignantly, although he did feel silly that he was doing so while covering his eyes. He lowered his hand, keeping his gaze firmly plastered to the ground. Viktor was sitting against the stone edge, his lower half now submerged in the water. The steam surrounding the area kept most of what was underneath the water hidden, which Yuuri felt immensely thankful for. Viktor moved his fingers in a little wave, the smirk still on his face like Yuuri's every action was hilarious. Yuuri glared and the next thing he did was probably reckless, but it was worth it to see how Viktor's smirk was instantly wiped away. 

He stepped away from the shower, his form directly in front of Viktor's eye-line before dropping his towel. 

Yuuri nearly laughed but he mustered up some self-control and kept his face nonchalant. Viktor looked like a gaping fish for a moment, the look comical as Yuuri slipped into the water slowly, shivering from the feeling of hot water against his skin. Viktor's reaction gave him immense satisfaction, especially since it was finally Yuuri that had the upper hand now. Yuuri scooped some of the water and pressed it to the back of his neck once he was waist-deep. The rivulets dripped down his back as he sighed and closed his eyes, grateful for the heat that helped calm the tenseness of his muscles.

Yuuri knew that his body had grown more defined the past few years from all the exercise and dancing. Viktor looked as if he was enjoying the view, his eyes not moving away from Yuuri's figure. He was smaller than Viktor, but maybe he could use that to his advantage. It wouldn't be the first time he did. Yuuri blushed and he wasn't sure that it was from the heat, but he wasn't planning on acknowledging it. 

"Are you trying to tempt me, Yuuri?" Viktor asked, getting up and wading in the water towards him. Yuuri shrugged.

"Why would it be considered tempting? Everyone's naked here." Yuuri said and although it made a fairly valid point, Viktor didn't seem like he believed him. Yuuri had been right when he thought that Viktor would tower over him slightly. The other man was standing close enough that Yuuri could see the attraction in his eyes, like how Viktor always seemed to look at him. As much as Yuuri wanted to look down because it was getting harder to assert dominance, he kept his eyes focused on Viktor's. 

Viktor leaned in towards his ear, although he didn't touch him. "I'm tempted, Yuuri." Viktor's breath felt cold on his heated skin and Yuuri clenched his fists, reminding himself to not get carried away. It would be easy to, with the steam curling around their bodies as if egging them on. 

"Too bad." Yuuri whispered back after a pause and the other man chuckled, leaning back. 

"You look much more different than before." Viktor hummed as the tips of his fingers ghosted against Yuuri's jaw that remained stubbornly set. 

"But those eyes are still the same." The touch moved slowly to the space between Yuuri's eye and his cheeks, feather-light. Refusing to let Viktor one-up him, Yuuri brushed his fingers against the hair that obstructed one of Viktor's eyes, moving it away. If the man was surprised, he hid it well. Though Yuuri could barely tell anything other than the obvious from Viktor's hooded gaze, he knew that Viktor wasn't expecting Yuuri to touch him in return. 

"Are you trying to flatter me so that I won't kill you and take over Russia one day?" Yuuri asked and Viktor shook his head and laughed heartily. 

"As much as I'd like to see how you'd accomplish that, the contract wouldn't allow it." Yuuri pretended to be put-off by Viktor's words and sighed loudly. Viktor's other hand suddenly brushed against his arm, the gentleness making his brain short-circuit for a moment.

Yuuri tried to make his mouth work as he stepped back, "Dinner." Viktor grinned and nodded, knowing that he won when Yuuri was the first to break and looking incredibly smug about it as well.

Yuuri muttered under his breath darkly as he got out of the water and wrapped his towel back around his waist, stalking back into the inn and going straight up to his room to slip into a shirt and sweatpants. His own lack of capability to think around Viktor's presence was infuriating. They danced for _one_ night ten years ago! And now Yuuri's acting like a schoolgirl with a crush. It was ridiculous. 

Viktor sat cross-legged in one of the inn's robes with Makkachin on his lap snoozing away. It was a perfectly domestic sight that Yuuri turned away from before his mind started conjuring up any ideas. Viktor waved at him cheerily when Yuuri entered the room and it was like he didn't see Yuuri a few moments ago. He was like an excitable puppy. Yuuri sat across from him as he battled a smile and Viktor leaned over the table while he spoke to Yuuri in the same animated way he spoke to Hiroko. 

"Your mother said something about katsudon? I'm not sure what it is but she said it was your favorite." Yuuri nodded and brought his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on them in a habitual way. Viktor looked at him with something almost close to endearment but Yuuri brushed the thought away before he dwelled on it too much. 

Viktor played with the flaps of Makkachin ears before he looked up at Yuuri like he was contemplating something. "She also said that there's a skating rink here as well. Do you think you could show me?" Yuuri was surprised that Viktor is familiar with ice-skating, but it seemed obvious once he thought about it. Viktor's slender frame seemed well-suited for the sport. 

"You know how to skate?" Yuuri asked. 

"The rivers and lakes around home were always frozen over during the winter so I usually skated around when I was younger." Viktor said and Yuuri tried not to think about a young Viktor stumbling and skating around wearing a coat that was too big for his small frame, but it was already in his head before he could stop it. Yuuri kept Viktor in his sights, eyes squinting as he tried to figure out the motives of Viktor's touches and general flirting. Was he trying to lure him into a sense of comfort and then kill him? Was he bored? Did Viktor just want to sleep with him? The thought tugged an amused smile out of his lips. 

The Yakuza and the Russian mafia did not have a necessarily good relationship. Yuuri knew that the contract was the only thing keeping them from a full-out war. Asia and Europe were divided equally among them and although it has brought fairness, once the Yakuza and Russian mafia grew and became an international syndicate, it was getting increasingly difficult to be cordial. In the end, it always came down to money and power. Yuuri knew that what kept them to this contract instead of just abandoning it altogether came solely from the inevitable loss of assets if they were to fight, since they'd they be evenly matched, and the importance of tradition.

The contract had been there for decades, when the Russian mafia and the Yakuza had been just ideas that were beginning to take form. Yuuri wasn't surprised that Viktor came alone. The man probably had a plan if anyone shot him through the head, though his actions were incautious. Was he really so lenient with his own life? Yuuri was brought out of his reverie when Viktor waved his hand in front of his face.

"As much I like you staring at me, you should eat." Yuuri cursed himself for the hundredth time since Viktor arrived.


End file.
